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The Plague

It’s a scary thing to realize that your child has been bitten by the entitlement bug. Just when you think you’ve made it through the hardest part of raising of your child unscathed, your precious one turns to you, hangs his/her mouth wide open, and lets careless words spill out like a sticky froth, bubbling with egocentricity, stinky with ingratitude.

It’s gross. 

What’s really nauseating, though, is discovering that you were the one that exposed them to this plague in the first place.

In retrospect, the bill for this belongs in my mailbox. I am the responsible party.

I was the one who said yes when the Holy Spirit told me to say no.

I was the one who bailed my kids out when they failed to prepare.

I was the one who made excuses for them when they didn’t follow through.

I was the one that set my life in orbit around their wants.

I was the one who ignored my husband’s advice, talked him down, and backed him off when he was right. 

It was me.

Sure, I did a lot of things right, but I did some important things wrong. Why? Well, because, more than anything, I wanted my kids to rise up and call me blessed, like it talks about in Scripture. The problem is that I tried to make it happen on my own terms.

That NEVER works, by the way! If you want what the Bible promises, you have to do it God’s way.

Now, I figure that when you make a mistake, you have two choices. You can put make-up on it like a pimple, pretend it doesn’t exist, and hope it heals up before too many people notice, or you can lay it out there and deal with it in hopes that other people will learn from your mistakes.

I don’t want to be like the mom that finds lice in her child’s hair and never says a word to warn the other parents, so I’m laying it out there so that others can avoid infection, not from my child but from their own well-intentioned, but harmful habits.

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